


Hum a Few Bars and I'll Fake it

by wallhaditcoming



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Acapella, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Charles You Slut, Charles You Will Be Drunk, Emotionally Crippled Erik Is Fun To Read, Erik Being Cocky, Erik is a Manwhore Too, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Singing, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-05
Updated: 2012-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:58:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallhaditcoming/pseuds/wallhaditcoming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik Lehnsherr, German transfer student, first sees Charles Xavier when his acapella group performs at freshman orientation.  Charles makes an impression, and Erik is determined to work his way into his bed.  He succeeds, and the results are so spectacular the two chose to make it a regular thing. Everything is perfect, until emotions complicate something that should be simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hum a Few Bars and I'll Fake it

**Author's Note:**

> The wonderful and talented [bone_kun](http://bone-kun.livejournal.com/) AND [amoralambiguity](http://amoralambiguity.livejournal.com/) both did art for this fic. I'll add a link to bone_kun's art when I have one, but you can find amoralambiguity's art [here](http://amoralambiguity.livejournal.com/163520.html) (once it goes live, that is. Which should be any minute now).
> 
> This fic involves both Charles and Erik participating in casual sexual encounters, both with each other and with others. The non-Chalres/Erik encounters are non-explicit and occur off-screen. There is one Hank/Darwin scene, and lots and lots of singing. Links to youtube videos of each song (acapella when possible) can be located in the end notes.
> 
> Many, many thanks to both my artists, [Operagoose](http://archiveofourown.org/users/OperaGoose) for the amazing support throughout, both in terms of cheering me on and in editing this into submission, [Kat](http://fightingfortheusers.tumblr.com/) for the beta-ing support, to [Pips](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PippinPips/pseuds/PippinPips) for being an amazing cheerleaders, Riley for her enthusiasm and support and for putting up with my incessant babbling throughout the process and the insane hours that I kept as a result, and to all the lovely chatango ladies for talking me down off the ledge when I was freaking out and for putting up with my impatient flailing as I waited to post this.

Erik Lehnsherr was not a freshman by any stretch of the imagination.  He’d attended university in his home country of Germany for two years before he decided to transfer to Genosha University.  To say he was displeased to be present at freshman orientation would be a gross understatement.

He’d been forced out of his room and into participating by his advisor, Doctor Frost.  It was just as terrible as he’d feared.  The freshmen were asinine and the Resident Assistants he’d had the misfortune to meet were even worse.  For the sake of his sanity, Erik spent the entirety pretending he only spoke German.  He also derived a deep sense of satisfaction from glaring those who were in his group into submission.

At the end of day two Erik slid into a chair at the very back of the auditorium, taking comfort in the thought that his torment was almost over.  All that remained was this presentation, followed by the freshmen-only dance.  There would inevitably be drinking in the wake of the dance, and after that, if he wanted, Erik could try and find someone to spend the night with. Though if what he knew about Americans and homosexuality was true, it might be a difficult to find someone who would even _admit_ to being interested, let alone willing to act on it.

The video about life on campus that was aired at the end of the presentation was so inane that Erik felt his time was better served by making a concentrated effort to sleep through it.  He almost succeeded, but just as he was getting around to it, the screen retracted and the lights on stage came up.  There was some confused murmuring from the audience, but it died down as a humming noise from offstage became audible.  The humming grew louder as the people within quieted and the people outside drew closer

Five men dressed in blue slacks with matching blazers walked single-file onto the stage, humming and snapping with every deliberate step they took.  Under their jackets they wore yellow dress shirts and satin blue ties.  They arranged themselves in a semi-circle onstage, facing forwards.  The humming and snapping came to a stop in unison once they were all in place.

Erik sat up in his seat as one of the men stepped forward with a smile on his face, his attention grabbed for the first time in over forty-eight hours.  He was fucking gorgeous, He somehow managed to make the stupid yellow shirt look attractive, and the blue tie brought out his eyes even at this distance.  His pale skin practically glowed under the stage lights.  And his mouth…his mouth was fucking obscene, that’s what it was.

“Hello everyone!”  he called out cheerfully, projecting his voice so it was audible throughout the small auditorium.

Erik shifted forward in his seat in response.  A British accent.  Of course he had a fucking British accent.

“We are Gin and Tonic,” he continued, “your lovely all-male acapella group here on campus.  We’re going to be putting on a short show for you tonight.   If you like what you hear, stop by our table during the involvement fair to hear about auditioning or just to pick up a schedule for our performances.

“But that’s enough about us!  On to the music! Our first song tonight features the lovely Sean Cassidy.”

There was only one name Erik gave a shit about in that acapella group, and it wasn’t the soloist.  Yet to Erik’s extreme surprise, he didn’t hate the performance.  There were parts of it he might even go so far as to call enjoyable.  It was certainly worlds better than the rest of the crap he had been subjected to during this joke of an orientation.  The songs they picked weren’t half bad and the arrangements suited the voices they had to work with.  The best part though, hands down, was being able to stare at that red mouth shaping the various words and imagining it rounded for an entirely different reason.

After three or so songs, the men once again shifted. This time the one Erik had his eyes on stepped forward into the position typically occupied by the soloist.  Erik sat forward in his seat, eager not to miss even the subtlest of changes in his expression, or the chance at an unobstructed view of the man’s body.

There was movement behind the man as the other singers brought a chair forward before returning to their spots.  Out came the pitch pipe, and as soon as the background began to be established, the man stepped out into the crowd.  He paced down the aisle to the fourth row, head swiveling back and forth as he scanned the audience.  After some consideration, the man reached out towards the person seated in the second seat. He grabbed him by the arm before dragging him up onto the stage despite the protests Erik could hear from his position near the back.

“I’m a dude, you blind moron!” the boy hissed as the ridiculously attractive man pushed him into the chair.

He threw back his head and laughed.  “Oh, my friend, I noticed,” he said with an exaggerated wink, projecting loud enough for the rest of the audience to hear.

Before the idiot boy had the chance to protest again, the man had begun singing.

“Hello,” he began, smirking down at the boy in the chair before falling dramatically to one knee. “I love you,” he continued, staring into the boy’s eyes deliberately before reaching out and taking his hand, singing in a coaxing tone of voice, “won’t you tell me your name?”

He continued on in much the same fashion for the duration of the song.  The boy he was serenading grew visibly more flustered as the song went on. Meanwhile the singer grew more and more outrageous in his flirtations, ending by sitting in the boy’s lap with his arms around his neck to the audience’s thunderous applause. 

The boy would inevitably spend the rest of the semester questioning his sexuality.  Erik almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

Still, the performance had made one thing clear: Erik needed to fuck this man.  Erik was going to fuck this man.  It was really only a matter of time, and hopefully not very much of it.

* * *

 

After the performance, Erik loitered in the hall between the auditorium and the door, hoping to catch the singer on the way out.  His RA choosing to grow a spine at the least convenient moment put a damper on that plan. The idiot came over to physically guide Erik to the dance, choosing to assume Erik’s hesitance was based in confusion about where to go.  Erik could have given some excuse about wanting to discuss becoming a member of the group, but that was out.  It would require speaking in a way that the idiot could understand, which would open the lines of communication, something to be avoided as long as possible.  He shrugged off the wall he was leaning against and followed.Erik would find his target another day.

In spite of this initial disappointment, the night wasn’t a complete waste.  He did manage to pick up a freshman at the dance and spent a couple satisfactory, if not spectacular, hours in his room.

Saturday, Erik found himself at a party, where he drank terrible beer and picked up a slightly more competent lay.  While there, he had asked around about the acapella singer, not making much of an effort to be subtle.  The results had been encouraging.  Charles Xavier, they said, was cheerfully bisexual and very sex positive.  Kind, though not one for serious relationships, Charles was enough to make even the straightest of men temporarily curious.

Things were looking up.

* * *

 

Erik dropped himself into a chair in back of the empty room and glared down at the textbook.  He wouldn’t have any trouble with the material, but spending tens of thousands of dollars to take something he already knew was enough to make anyone angry.  If Erik had to be miserable, he was going to make damn well sure everyone knew it, and maybe drag a few of them down into misery with him.

The other students trickled in slowly.  A glare ensured that none of them tried to sit near him.  The Professor didn’t even bother to glance at the students when he walked into the room three minutes before the start of the lecture, which only served to make Erik even more irritated.  Refusing to acknowledge students on the first day of the course told Erik a great deal about the amount of respect he could expect.

Erik had no problem with respect.  He gladly gave it to those who deserved it.  But it was a two way street.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Erik recognized that voice.  Erik had been fantasizing about that voice and the man it belonged to almost non-stop since he had first heard it.  He glanced up to confirm that his ears weren’t deceiving him.

Xavier’s blue eyes, pale skin, and red mouth had been distracting at a distance.  Up close, they were absolutely devastating.  All thoughts of irritation, hell, all _thought_ went straight out the window as his body decided that his blood would be of better use in a more southerly direction.

“By all means,” Erik said, his mouth suddenly dry.

He gestured to the seat beside him, watching with interest as Xavier’s eyes fixed on his fingers before moving up along his arm and then up to his face.  Erik allowed himself a smile as he let his own gaze rake down the other man’s body, not even trying to be subtle about it.

On Friday, the yellow shirt of the acapella group had been on the tight side of fitted.  Today, Xavier was wearing a pale blue button up that flirted with being too large under a navy jumper that did even more to conceal the muscles Erik knew were hiding underneath.  The only redeeming quality Erik could find was that Xavier had left the top two buttons undone, giving Erik a view of miles of pale neck and the barest hint of the other man’s chest.

Xavier was facing the wrong way for Erik to have a chance to observe his arse, but his thighs were more than enough all on their own.

After his slow, far-from subtle cataloging of Xavier, Erik returned his gaze to the man’s face, just in time to catch the tail end of Xavier’s own sweep.  Xavier, seeing that he had been caught, gave Erik a slow grin, highlighting the striking difference between the white of his teeth and the red of his mouth.  Erik returned the favor with a smirk of his own and watched with avid interest as the other man settled into his chair.

Erik managed to catch an eyeful of the man’s arse in the process, and it was fucking fantastic.

“How nice it is to run into a fellow mutant,” Xavier began as soon as he was seated. He shot Erik a look that would have had Erik plotting the course to the nearest bathroom had they been in a bar.

“Mutant?” Erik asked, arching a brow.

“Indeed.  Our eyes, my friend.  The result of a mutation of the OCA2 gene.  Though I must admit, your particular display of variations is absolutely striking.  Much more interesting than my own.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain about that,” Erik said with a slow grin.  “Erik Lehnsherr,” he said offering his hand.

“Charles Xavier,” the man responded, taking it and offering a firm handshake before simply holding it in his own.

“I know,” Erik responded, smiling wider.  “Your….mutation made quite an impression at orientation the other night.  I asked around.”

Erik reluctantly took his hand back, but made sure to trail his fingers across Charles’ palm as he did so.

“Forgive me for saying so, but you do not look like a freshman.”

“Transfer student.  Still trying to figure things out.  You wouldn’t know anyone who might be able to show me the ropes, as it were?”

“Well,” Charles said, his smile turning downright filthy, “we mutants have to stick together.  What are you doing after class?”

The urge to say _you_ was actually painful to resist, but Erik managed it.

“Nothing,” he offered instead.

“We could change that, if you’d like,” Charles said with that same wicked smirk, as if he knew what Erik had been thinking.

“I would like that.  A great deal.”

Then the professor began speaking, and they didn’t have a chance to talk again.  It didn’t prevent them from exchanging looks, however. By the end of the block Erik had to admit that his trousers were beginning to feel uncomfortably tight.

Charles shot him a knowing look when Stryker finally dismissed the class.  His heated expression and refusal to leave his seat suggested he shared Erik’s pain.

“When is your next class?” he asked, seemingly conversationally, but there was a little too much heat behind it for it to be a truly innocuous question.

“Not for three hours.”

The smile he received at that was truly filthy.  “Excellent.  I’m done for the day.  Perhaps I could show you around like we talked about?”

“Of course,” Erik said. He ignored his usual careful system in favor of simply shoving all his books and papers into his bag.

“Was there anywhere in particular you wanted to start?” Charles breathed into his ear as they walked out of the building.

“I was curious what other dorm rooms looked like,” Erik responded with a smirk, allowing his hand to rest at the small of Charles’ back, “or perhaps you could come look at mine?  Tell me how it differs from the norm?”

“Mine,” Charles said.  He grabbed Erik’s hand and, instead of moving it away as Erik had expected, moved it down so it was placed firmly on his arse.  “It’s closer.”

“Yours it is then.”

The walk across the academic quad was one of the most frustrating Erik had experienced thus far, for all that anticipation was curling in Erik’s stomach.  Charles’ dorm was directly across from Erik’s own, but admittedly closer.

“I’m on the third floor,” Charles tossed over his shoulder before heading toward the stairs.  
Erik let him pull ahead.  He hadn’t had nearly enough time to appreciate that arse in class, and the view going up the stairs was…impressive.

“I’m the RA here,” Charles told him. He wrestled with his door, finally getting it open.  “Make yourself comfortable.  I just have to make a note on the whiteboard.”

Erik entered, perching on the edge of a desk as he glanced around.

The floor was covered in single shoes, random clothes, and piles and piles of books.  The walls were decorated in inspirational quotes from Einstein and a periodic table.

Erik didn’t have time to observe anything more before he heard the sound of the door closing and turned to find Charles striding towards him, tossing the whiteboard marker carelessly onto the desk beside Erik.  Charles stood between Erik’s spread legs and leaned up, bringing their lips together experimentally.  He pulled back before Erik had a chance to complain about the cautiousness of the kiss or do anything to change it.  He tilted his head thoughtfully before coming in again.  
This time it was anything but cautious.  Charles’ tongue ran across his lips, and he opened his mouth obligingly.  Charles used the opportunity to drag his teeth across Erik’s lower lip, nipping lightly.

Erik sucked on Charles’ upper lip in retaliation before changing the angle so he could map out the other man’s mouth with his tongue. Charles sucked on it before returning the favor.

Erik slid down off the desk, grabbing at Charles’ hips and yanking the other man flush against him before slipping his tongue back into Charles’ mouth.

It didn’t take long for things to progress. Erik’s hand moved to Charles’ hair and pulled his head roughly to the side to give himself proper access to that ridiculous neck, scraping his teeth across milk-white skin.  Charles let out a small groan, his hand traveling down Erik’s chest before cupping the bulge in his jeans and applying just enough pressure to make Erik hiss.

“Jesus,” Charles gasped appreciatively.  “You’re packing some serious heat there.  God, I’d feel that for days, wouldn’t I?”

Erik’s hand moved to Charles’ arse, squeezing the delightfully plump flesh.  “Is that on the table?” he asked.

“If you ask nicely,” Charles said. With a smirk, he pulled Erik into another searing kiss.

“Charles,” Erik whispered, placing a sucking kiss at the junction of his neck and shoulder.  “May I please,” another kiss, slightly higher, “please,” another, “work you open with my fingers,” and this time the kiss was just behind his jaw, “before I push into your arse,” a lick across the shell of his ear, “and fuck you hard enough that you won’t be able to sit down without thinking about me for a week?” he sucked the lobe in and bit.

If the noise he was making was any indication, Charles liked that.  Or maybe he just liked Erik’s question. It wasn’t clear, and it didn’t really matter to Erik at the moment.

“We,” Charles said, working a hand under Erik’s shirt and scraping his nails lightly along his back, “are wearing far too many clothes.”

“Agreed,” Erik said and pulled his hand away from Charles’ arse long enough to grasp the hem of that ridiculous fucking jumper. He yanked it up over Charles’ head before tossing it carelessly on the floor.  He let his eyes rake appreciatively over the view.

For all that Charles wasn’t tall, he was by no means slight. His build was compact, with muscles that Erik looked forward to appreciating properly.  His skin was smooth and pale save for the smattering of freckles, making the dark hair around his pert nipples and leading down from his naval to under the waistband of his jeans all the more obvious.

No longer content to just observe, Erik placed one hand on Charles’ bicep, the other on the firm swell of his arse.  Erik tugged him closer before leaning down to taste his skin, licking a stripe between his pecs.

Erik felt hands at his hips, but he was too busy trying to taste as many of Charles’ freckles as he could find to pay much attention to what they were doing.  The there was a sudden release of pressure as his jeans were undone and shoved unceremoniously down to his thighs.

He raised an eyebrow and was about to make a comment about Charles’ goals, but then Charles shoved his hand down his underwear and anything remotely resembling coherent thought flew out of his head.

“Move a little to the left and I’ll consider moving at all,” Charles said, sounding far too smug.  “Or right, really.  I’m not choosy.”

Two could play at that game, Erik thought with a smirk.  Being sure to move his tongue in slow, leisurely circles just around Charles’ nipple, he released Charles’ bicep.  He traced his fingers down along Charles’ arm before wrapping his hand around Charles’ own.

“A bit eager, are we?” Erik asked.  

He removed Charles’ hand with care before biting down carefully on the man’s nipple, hard enough to make him gasp.  Satisfied that his host was suitably distracted, Erik pulled away and pushed sharply on his shoulder.  

“Bed,” he ordered.

Charles complied, perching on the edge of the bed just long enough to toe off his shoes and pull off his socks before collapsing back onto the extra-long twin bed that was standard in all dorm rooms.  
Erik removed his pants and underwear entirely before tugging everything off, grabbing his socks in the process.  His shirt was next, tugged over his head before being carelessly tossed away.

“Condoms and lube?” Erik asked, glancing around the room.

“Second desk drawer,” Charles replied from behind him, the sound of a zipper conspicuous as Erik picked his way across the floor.

Erik pulled the drawer open and rifled through the contents, the unmistakable sound of Charles beginning without him was a remarkable motivation.  When he turned around, he was greeted by the sight of Charles sprawled on the bed, eyes fixed on Erik as he lazily fisted the cock pulled free from his jeans.  And just his jeans.  There was no underwear in sight.

Erik swore and crossed the room in a flash, standing at the end of the bed and staring down.

“You are…utterly impossible,” Erik growled.

“As if you’re one to talk,” Charles shot back, arching up into his hand.  “Why the hell are you all the way over there?”

It was an excellent question.  Erik took just enough time to tug Charles’ jeans off, dragging the man down across the bed in the process before joining him on the bed.  He hovered over Charles briefly before bending down and pressing their lips together in a bruising kiss, his hand replacing Charles’ on his cock.

“You like that?” he asked, pulling away to watch Charles’ reactions.

It was an entirely rhetorical question.  If Charles had been distracting before, like this he was obscene.  His mouth was swollen bright red from kisses, his blue eyes were impossibly bright, and his pale skin was flushed pink.  Charles’s hands skated over Erik’s chest, outlining his muscles with the faintest trace of finger nails before tugging on his nipples.

“Were you going to use those?” he asked, eyes, flickering to the lube and condom, “or was all that talk of fucking me just talk?”

Erik didn’t have to be told twice.  He pulled back, coating his fingers with the slick before throwing one of Charles’ legs over his shoulder to give him the proper access. He worked one finger around the edge of his hole before slowly pushing in, watching Charles’ face carefully.  Charles hissed slightly at first, but quickly relaxed: he was obviously familiar with the sensation.

“Up a bit and slightly to the…mmrgh!” Charles said as Erik found the area in question.

He worked one finger in and out a few times before adding a second, then a third.

“Good?” he asked.

Charles nodded, bottom lip between his teeth and eyes half-lidded with desire.

Erik pulled on the condom and slicked him self before slowly pushing in and god, Charles was tight. Tight and hot and perfect and his blue eyes were staring up at Erik in wonder, a red, red lip between white teeth. It took all of Erik’s self-control to stop long enough for Charles to adjust.

“Move,” Charles said at last.  “Move, damn you or…”

Erik never heard the end of the threat, it broke off in a moan as he began to thrust.  He set a punishing pace, encouraged by Charles’ occasional “harder” and the obscene noises he would make whenever Erik hit his prostate just right.  Erik managed to ease off slightly, trying to prolong the inevitable as long as possible, but then Charles clenched down on him and it was a lost cause.  He pushed in harder, his rhythm breaking down. He wrapped his hand around Charles cock and stroked, pulling Charles over the edge just before he lost all control. He thrust erratically into the tight heat as he spilt into the condom and collapsed onto Charles’ chest.

He pulled out and rolled over, just barely enough room on the ridiculously small bed for the two of them to lay side by side while he worked on recovering, breath finally evening out.

“You,” Charles said, staring up at his ceiling, “have just ruined the rest of the year for me.  Jesus.  No one who was already on campus is going to be able to top that, and the freshman are fucking hopeless.”

“You mean the freshman are hopeless at fucking,” Erik corrected as he hauled himself up off the bed, pulling off the condom, tying it off and throwing it in the trash.  He looked  around for something Charles could clean himself up with.

Charles snorted.  “Yes, that exactly.”

“And don’t be pissed at me,” Erik tossed over his shoulder, “that problem goes both ways.  Most of the boys here are so far in the closet that they’ve found fucking Narnia.”  
“That sounds pleasant. No wonder they’re so reluctant to leave.”

Erik rolled his eyes and threw the hand towel from the back of Charles’ door at him, grinning in vicious satisfaction when it hit him squarely in the face.  Charles tugged it off, laughing.

“You could always try some of the local fare if things on campus aren't up to your speed.  There are a few bars in town frequented by several gentlemen who might be to your taste.  There's also the local club.  It's called something ridiculous and offensive, but it's a good place," Charles told him thoughtfully.

Erik could hear the rasping sound of the cloth against Charles’ skin, mopping up the lube they'd used.  He was facing away from Charles to get dressed for several reasons, the most important of which was he wasn't certain he could handle the sight without causing himself problems, and he didn't have time for another round before class.

"Where is it?" Erik asked. He finished zipping his jeans and shrugged on his shirt.  "I don't have a car, so..."

"Give me your number," Charles suggested, and something small and hard and plastic hit Erik in the back.  He turned around and rose his eyebrows at Charles in disbelief when he realized that it had been the other man's phone.  Charles just shrugged and smiled saucily at him.  "Your shirt ruined my view.  I'm allowed to be angry at it.  The pants too, obviously, but...well."

Erik rolled his eyes and picked up Charles' phone, a touch-screen Erik didn't recognize that was no doubt hideously expensive. He pulled out his own newly acquired American cell phone to check the number he had yet to memorize before entering the digits into Charles' phone.

"Next time I'm planning on going I'll give you a lift, yes?"

"Fine," Erik agreed, firing himself a quick text from Charles' phone so he'd have the other man's number.  "I'll see you in Chemistry?"

Charles groaned and flopped back onto the bed.  "Please don't remind me.  That class is a total waste of time."

"Agreed.  But at least we'll both have something pretty to look at, yes?"

Erik closed the door to the sound of Charles' laughter.  He was only mildly surprised to find that there was a smile on his face all the way to his next lecture.

* * *

 

The Chemistry professor, Erik discovered when he actually paid attention, was a complete and unrepentant condescending arsehole.  Not only was he a condescending arsehole, he was a condescending _incorrect_ arsehole.  It was a fight to make it through the lectures each day.  Erik wouldn't have bothered at all, but the bastard took attendance at the start and end of every lecture in spite of the size of the course, and attendance accounted for a staggering 20 percent of the overall grade.  Erik might have risked it anyway -- he knew more than enough to breeze through the labs and exams without trouble. But Charles was in the same boat. He sat through that second lecture with a pained look on his face, glancing longingly at the attendance policy as if wishing it would disappear.

"I'll stick it out if you do," Erik whispered to him.

"Only if you promise to keep me sane," Charles responded desperately.  "Texts.  Notes.  Lap dances.  Anything."

Erik's eyebrow rose.  "You think a lap dance from me would only be as distracting as a text message?"

Charles grinned.  "You are very fit, it's true, but flexible?  I don't think so."

Which was why, when Charles took him to the gay club later that night, Erik took it upon himself to demonstrate exactly how flexible he could be when he dragged Charles out onto the dance floor.  Judging by the way Charles dragged him to the men's room and shoved down his pants before dropping to his knees immediately afterwards, he thought he had been rather successful.

Erik went home with someone else that night, but it was the memory of Charles rolling the condom onto his cock with his mouth before he got properly started that sent Erik over the edge.

* * *

 

The closest bar, within walking distance of the school, was frequented by townies as well as students.  Erik thought it would be worth a shot when it came to bed partners.  At the very least he might be able to find a decent beer.

Charles was already at the bar when he arrived.  While Erik had come with the intention to pull someone, if he sat alone he ran the risk of people trying to talk to him.  Charles was at least a tolerable conversationalist, and would make an excellent shield against people he had no desire to speak with, let alone fuck.

Charles’ eyebrows shot up when Erik took the seat beside him.

“As amazing the other afternoon was, and I’m still sore by the way, my pursuits tonight lie in a more…feminine direction.”

“Then I wish you luck.”

They indulged in some small talk as they ordered drinks, and between rounds, but for the most part, Erik just sat back and watched as Charles did his best to work his way into someone’s bed.  
The genetics lines were genuinely awful.  They shouldn’t have worked.  With anyone else, they wouldn’t have.  But Charles was just so…enthusiastic about it that it was impossible not to find it attractive.  It was his enthusiasm that drew them in, coupled with his…others would call it confidence, but Erik felt arrogance was a more appropriate term.

“Your pickup lines are terrible.  How you manage to get laid is beyond me,” Erik told him when one of the duller women walked away before Charles had enough time to get far enough into his appeal to charm her.

“They worked on you, didn’t they?” Charles said, taking a swig of his drink.

“Yes, but that’s only because I already wanted to get into your pants.”

Charles smiled wickedly before opening his mouth, but Erik cut him off before he could begin.  

“If you say _anything_ about DNA helicase, I will kill you,” Erik told him before taking a swig of his shitty American beer.

“You’re saying you don’t want to unzip my genes?” Charles smirked.

Erik actually took some time to consider the question.

“I would not be opposed to unzipping your jeans at any point in the future,” Erik said.  “You’re good in bed.  We’re good in bed together.  But I’m not looking for anything more than that.”

Charles gave him a thoughtful look.  

“Neither am I.  Alright then.  Fuck buddies it is,” he said, raising his glass.

Erik tapped his bottle to it, and tried not to be too distracted by the line of Charles’ throat as he chugged his drink.

* * *

 

When Stryker began talking about lab partners, Erik and Charles immediately made eye contact. They agreed to join themselves together for three hours every week with a simple raising of eyebrows coupled with a small head tilt and a quick nod of the head in response.  Erik was immensely grateful for that choice that afternoon when he saw the disaster all the other students were making of one of the simplest distillation experiments Erik knew of.  Even when not compared with idiots, Charles still would have stood head and shoulders above anyone else  His familiarity with the equipment, his scientific attitude, and his deft hands all made him the idea lab partner.  Between the two of them, they had finished the experiment in just under an hour.

Then came the interminable period where they were forced to wait for the rest of the idiots to finish their experiments so the class' data could be complied.  In any other situation, Erik would have spent the time staring moodily into space and glaring at his partner any time they tried to strike up a conversation, but with Charles it was a different story.

"You know your way around a chemistry experiment," Erik offered.

Charles' rolled his eyes.  "Why departments are so territorial about where students learn the material I will never understand. Just because I didn't learn it from them doesn't mean I didn't learn it.  I could teach this class better than Stryker, yet here I am being forced to take it."

Erik nodded in understanding.

They made small talk, which eventually turned to hobbies, and they discovered that they both enjoyed chess.  Charles just so happened to have an app on his iTouch and the two played it while continuing to converse and waiting on the rest of the class to finish collecting data.  To Erik's surprise, Charles was a formidable opponent, and for the first time in over a year, Erik lost a game of chess.

* * *

 

Erik shut his physics textbook with an angry huff, glaring at his roommate when the Spaniard started at the noise.  Janos (and Erik only knew his name because it was on the door, they’d never exchanged any words beyond the initial emails when they’d been assigned as roommates) shrugged before going back to his own studying.

Erik rubbed his hands through his hair in frustration.  He’d reached the point where his brain felt slow, as if it were overstuffed.  What he needed now was some time for it to finish processing all the information he’d tried to shove into it.  He stood up and stretched, easing out the kinks that came from sitting hunched over a desk for several sixteen hours with minimal breaks.  He crossed the room to his closet and dropped to the floor to pull on his boots, doing the laces quickly with the ease of long practice.  His back gave a twinge when he stood again, but Erik ignored it in favor of tugging on his jacket and pulling one of his caps on to cover his disheveled hair before yanking open the door.  He passed through the threshold to the sound of his roommate praising god.  Given that he was speaking English, Erik knew he was meant to hear, as Janos was still suffering under the misapprehension that Erik didn’t speak Spanish, a mistake Erik didn’t see the need to correct.   Erik rolled his eyes as he slammed the door to muffle the tail end of Janos’ prayer of thanksgiving.

Erik jogged down the stairs, eager to get some fresh air, only to freeze when he realized he had no idea what he was going to do.  A party was out of the question, as were the bar and the club, but a walk wouldn’t suffice.  He needed to get out of his own head, but also needed to be able to focus once he had returned from his excursion.  While he was pondering the conundrum, his eyes caught on a flyer advertising a Gin and Tonic concert taking place that evening at 7:30 on the topmost floor of the student union.  A quick glance at his watch told him it was only 7:15.

7:32 saw Erik slipping into the space as unobtrusively as possible, and thus into the seat closest to the door.  If that seat happened to be in the front row, it was a complete coincidence.  Still, all his caution was for naught, as it was clear the group was running slightly behind schedule.

At 7:34, the group entered to the crowd’s vocal appreciation, thought they did so without any of their usual fanfare. Erik knew he was definitely appreciating the sight of Charles back in that shirt and what the blue-satin tie was doing for his eyes.  Charles stepped forward with a grin.

“Hello everyone!  Tonight’s concert is going to start a little differently than our others have.  Because tonight…” he paused here for emphasis.  “Tonight we have an audition!”

Much of the crowd burst into applause, but Erik glanced around and was glad to see he wasn’t the only one who appeared confused.

“Now, many of you are looking confused, so allow me a moment to explain.  It is Gin and Tonic tradition that, when someone is interested in joining the group, they approach someone other than the director,” he said, pointing to himself “and prepare an audition piece with the group in which they will act as soloist.  Because of reasons that have been lost to the annals of time, this process is conducted with the director kept completely in the dark.  I have no more idea than most of you do who the person auditioning is until they step onto this stage.”

Charles smiled at the gathered crowd before continuing.  “Well, that’s enough of my blabbing, isn’t it?  I’ll just join you all, and then we can enjoy the audition!”

Charles hopped off the stage and dropped into the free seat next to Erik as the crowd cheered again.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Charles whispered while the remaining members of the group began establishing the background beat to whatever song the person auditioning was planning on singing.

Erik glanced over at him, and Charles looked so damned pleased to see him that he couldn’t not respond.  
“I’d hit my breaking point when it came to studying, and I enjoyed it the first time around, so,” he shrugged.

Charles’ smile grew wider and…softer, somehow. But he didn’t say anything in response, holding a finger to his lips. As if Erik wasn’t already having enough trouble focusing on anything other than Charles without the bastard calling attention to his mouth. He tilted his head in the direction of the stage where it was clear the background music had built to its crescendo.

A vaguely familiar figure stepped out from where he had been hidden backstage, and it only took Erik a moment to place him as the freshman Charles had serenaded that first night.  The confusion came about as a result of the absolutely appalling outfit he was wearing – a shirt in eye-searing orange coupled with a yellow vest and tie.  Erik didn’t blame him for wearing sunglasses; they were probably to prevent him from being blinded by his own clothing.

Charles chuckled softly at the expression on Erik’s face.

“A bit of harmless hazing,” he explained. “The boys pick the worst color combinations they can think of and an accessory that the auditionee has to wear for the performance.  It’s a good tool.  You can’t have any shame in an acapella group.  Not on stage, anyway.”

Charles pulled away, and the singer began.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain,” he began, “too much love drives a man insane.  You broke my will, oh what a thrill.  Goodness gracious” and then his voice went amusingly high on the word “great” before back down on “balls of fire.”

Charles laughed, delighted.  “Oh, this is perfect for him!  Well done, Alex!” he whispered.

The boy was nervous, but he wasn’t letting it control him.  Instead, he seemed to be channeling that energy into his performance, doing small a shimmy and other ridiculous things as sang, to the audience’s delight.  He even went so far as to add an amusing “I don’t sing here” during a moment when the background was key, causing uproarious laughter.

“Let’s hear it for Alex Summers, everyone!” Charles called unnecessarily after  he climbed back onstage.  
The applause was already enthusiastic, and even Erik grudgingly joining in.  The kid looked visibly relieved when he escaped off the stage, but Erik was sure there would be a spot waiting for him within in the group.

The rest of the concert was entertaining.  Erik was surprised to find that he enjoyed himself, even if most of their selections were unfamiliar and a few others made him cringe a little.  Not because they were done badly, but simply because they had been _done_.

Still, it had been…fun, and exactly what he had needed to settle his head.  Blowing Charles behind the stage took care of grounding the few remaining stray bits, and then he ducked off to his room to study. He made a mental note to try and attend more of their events.

* * *

 

**_Fuck this shit.  I’m coming over_** , Erik texted, trying desperately not to punch something as he stormed across the quad.

A swipe of his key card, two flights of stairs, and several fleeing freshman later, Erik found himself outside Charles’ door.  Finding the whiteboard message free, he raised a fist and pounded on the wood.

Three knocks later and the door jerked open.  Charles stood before him, hand on the doorknob. He glared up at him, but the look soon vanished.

“I would like to be fucked,” Erik began perfunctorily, “by someone who knows what a prostate is.”

Charles eyes blew wide, and he grabbed Erik by his shirt front and used it to yank him inside.  He pushed Erik in the general direction of his bed before grabbing a marker off his desk.

Erik didn’t care enough to watch him write out the message, instead pulling his shirt off over his head and throwing it haphazardly in a corner of the room.  The pants were next, slightly difficult to remove over his still half-hard cock.  Before he could get to anything else, a hand had landed on his back and was slowly working its way around towards his chest.

Charles’ eyes were full of heat when he finally stepped around in front of Erik.  He didn’t say anything, for which Erik was grateful.  He hadn’t come here to talk.  

Charles’ hand was warm against Erik’s chest, and that warmth flared into heat when he moved his hand down so he could rub maddening circles across one of Erik’s nipples with his thumb. His other hand reached up to tangle in Erik’s hair and before tugging him down into a kiss.

It started out slow, Charles’ tongue making a languid exploration of Erik’s mouth before allowing Erik to return the favor.  The kiss slowly grew faster and more desperate until Erik felt feverish with lust, practically attacking Charles’s mouth before fixing his attention on Charles’ neck.  His mark from one of their previous encounters had started to fade, and that was unacceptable.

They knew more than enough about each other at this point for things to escalate quickly, and it wasn’t long before they were both sprawled on Charles’ bed. Erik was lying face down, hips propped up with one of Charles’ copious pillows, with Charles kneeling above him.

There was the familiar sound of a cap flicking open, and the squelch of lube coming out of the bottle. Erik felt one of Charles’ fingers circling around his hole before pushing in, a second joining it when Charles felt how loose and slick he already was from the disappointing encounter that had sparked this visit.

“Goddamnit Charles, stop teasing.  I’m already prepped,” Erik grit out between clenched teeth.  The sensation of Charles’ fingers slowly sliding in and out was coiling his already overwhelming desire even tighter.

“But I like this part,” and Erik could fucking hear the smirk in his voice.

“Just fuck me already you unbelievable bastard,” Erik snarled.

Charles scissored his fingers in response before pressing them back in at just the right angle and Erik swore.

“You were saying?” Charles asked. For all Erik couldn’t see him, he could feel the smugness radiating off him.

Erik decided that swearing in German was the only possible response.

Charles eventually grew tired of his game and the sound of a foil packet tearing was like music to Erik’s ears.  Erik was about to tell him to hurry the fuck up, but then he felt the heat of Charles at his back and a blunt pressure at his hole.

“Ready?” Charles asked.

“I was ready when I walked in the fucking room, Charles.”

“Right then.”

The initial push was slow, and they both took a moment to adjust once Charles was fully seated inside him.

“Okay?”

“Move already.”

Charles was…Erik already knew Charles was skilled in bed.  He had experienced it himself.  But this...this almost made the disappointment earlier in the evening worth it.  His rhythm was hard but measured, striking Erik’s prostate every time.  The hand he had worked underneath Erik’s hips was keeping perfect time.  It wasn’t long before Erik, on edge as long as he had been, found himself tipping over into orgasm.

Charles’ thrusts became less and less rhythmic, his face buried in Erik’s shoulder as he let out a very familiar moan before collapsing on top of him.  Erik grunted in protest, but couldn’t bring himself to move enough to attempt to dislodge him.

“Sorry,” Charles said.  With a huff of effort he lifted himself off Erik.  Erik heard him throw the condom in the trash, followed by the rustle of fabric and the opening and closing of the door. Erik had almost dozed off when it opened again, and then Charles was passing him a wet washcloth.

“You can stay the night, if you’d like.  It’ll be a tight squeeze, but I think we can make it work.”

Erik grunted once in agreement, cleaning himself up just enough to be comfortable before collapsing back down on the bed.  He had just enough presence of mind to scoot over before falling into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

Charles, Erik realized quickly, was actually a rather adorable drunk.  Make no mistake, Charles could hold his liquor.  He just couldn’t hold it as well as Erik.  Erik didn’t blame him **:** he was German.  He didn’t expect anyone to keep pace.

After running into Charles at the bar three time in a row, Erik figured it was best to bite the bullet and just ask him out for drinks.  He made sure to include an offer to play wingman to make it clear that sleeping with Charles wasn’t the goal of the proposal.

It’s hadn’t kept them from having a quickie in the bathroom, but still.  It was the thought that counted.

They’d both returned to the booth and to their drinks looking slightly rumpled, but nothing terribly obvious.  And now, an hour and a half later, Charles was sitting there rosy-cheeked and glassy eyed and humming cheerfully.

“Now this,” he said, breaking off mid hum and gesturing with slightly more vigor than usual, “this is what college is supposed to be!  Drinking and partying and being involved in too many activities and…socializing in questionable places and going to class in the morning in sunglasses because your hangover is that bad.  That’s how you do college.”

“That’s how _you_ do college, at any rate,” Erik offered.  He watched Charles’ flailing with amusement he didn’t bother trying to hide.

“It wasn’t the first time,” Charles told him.

“Sorry?” Erik asked.  He thought perhaps he had misheard, or that he’d had slightly more to drink than he thought and was losing his grasp on English.  It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.

“It’s not how I did college the first time,” Charles repeated.  “The first time, it was all about the learning.  I’ve always liked learning you know,” he told Erik seriously.

Erik simply nodded, afraid that if he interrupted Charles, the flow of words would stop. He was too curious to let that happen.

“I’ve always been good at it too.  Things just…click.  So college seemed like a good idea, you know?  Learning.  And leaving home.  Leaving home was good too.  So I went. Off to Harvard with me.  And then Oxford.  And then I was done, and I knew what I wanted to do, but no one is going to hire a nineteen year old to be a professor.  It doesn’t matter if he’s got a PhD, you’re not going to let him teach people older than him.  And then I thought…why not do it again?  I like learning.  I’m good at learning.  Not as good as Hank, mind you, but still good.  So I went back to school.  Psychology, this time.  And I thought, this time, I’d do the social bit as well.  Because I didn’t get to the first time around.”  
Erik stared at him, open-mouthed.

“What’s your PhD in?” he asked at last. He pushed the rest of the information aside for processing when he was more sober.

“Genetics,” he said miserably.

“What the fuck are you doing in an intro-level Chem class then?”

“No special treatment,” Charles said miserably.  “That’s what I asked for.  Had them seal my records from my teachers.  So I’m stuck, because I need it for psych, and they won’t let me skip it.”

“Jesus, Charles.  Stryker’s class is torture for me, and I only have a few courses under my belt, not a fucking PhD in a related field.”

“I think I’m being punished for something I did in a past life,” he said seriously.  “It’s the only explanation.”

When Charles showed up for their lab the next morning, he looked terrible.  Judging by the hand held to his temple and the way he flinched whenever he tried to look at the windows or any reflective surface within the room, Erik was willing to bet he was suffering from a hangover.  Unsurprising, given the way he’d been stumbling around when Erik had pushed him into his room the night before.  It was fortunate that Erik had decided to wear his sunglasses that morning, despite the fact that it had been overcast when he’d left.

Erik handed them over wordlessly when Charles finally reached their lab station. He was looking miserable and tentative in a way Charles never should, wrapped today in one of his more shapeless jumpers.  At the sight of them he brightened considerably, putting them on with a tentative smile.  He moved towards the apparatus, clearly intent on commandeering it.

“Oh, hell no,” Erik said.

Charles winced at the volume of Erik’s voice and shot him a confused look.

“If you think, after what you told me last night, that you get to do most of the experimentation, you are wrong.”

The experiments were the only part of this class that were remotely bearable. With anyone else, Erik would have bullied them into letting him do most of the experimentation.  Not with Charles.  But now that he knew that Charles had done each of these experiments before, was more than familiar with what they were doing…well, Erik needed to learn.

Charles gave him a brilliant smile, and Erik wasn’t sure whether to resent the glasses for blocking how beautiful his eyes looked at that moment or to be grateful they were there and that he wasn’t dragging Charles off to the men’s room as a result.

“Please?  It’s so dreadfully dull normally,” he said, grin still in place.

“You’ve done this before. I need the practice more than this.  And if the universe is trying to punish you, I’d rather get on its good side.”

Charles, somehow, ended up doing most of the experiment.  Erik couldn’t bring himself to mind.

* * *

 

The transition from fuck buddies to friends with benefits was so slow Erik didn’t even realize it had happened until it was already too late.

He was in Charles’ room, sprawled across the bed with his feet resting in Charles’ lap. He had been fighting with a physics problem while teasing Charles about his taste in music when it hit him.

“We’re friends,” he said, unable to contain the epiphany.

Charles glanced up from his book, worrying a pen in his mouth in the most distracting way possible.  “And?” He asked around the tip of it.

Not even Charles’ mouth could distract him from his epiphany.

“We’re friends, Charles.”

Charles rolled his eyes.  “Yes.”

“Why?  How?”

“Well, we’ve had sex at least two nights a week and several mornings, and that probably helped.”

"I am an angry, promiscuous German with a drinking problem and emotional issues!  Things like this don't happen to me."

"And I'm a British-American trust-fund baby with impeding alcohol dependence and a genius level IQ.  We all have our little quirks,” Charles said flippantly.  “Now, how would you feel about a mashup of Queen and Lady Gaga?”

Erik stared at him in open-mouthed shock.  “No.”

“But…”

“No.”

“The audience would…”

“Charles, as your friend, it is my duty to save you from yourself, yes?  And save others from you?  So, no.”

“But…”

“If I blow you, will you forget about it?”

“…maybe.”

* * *

 

Erik was at his fourth Gin and Tonic concert so far in the year, and he knew the set list and order in which things were done by heart and even the names of all the members. Thanks in no small part to his exposure to Charles and his particular brand of acapella madness and exposure to his musical cult by extension.  So to say he was confused when Darwin stepped forward when Charles should have begun his serenade was a bit of an understatement.

“So…uh, I know some of you know some of the traditions we have, but I also know that most of you probably don’t really know about most of them.  Now, this is usually the time when Charles here picks a lucky lady or lad from the audience to serenade.  But when one of the group members is in a relationship and wants to sing to their special someone, things go a bit differently.  This used to be called the girlfriend song, but given the change in group dynamics, we all thought the Significant Other Song was more appropriate.”

Darwin cheated out to look at a dumbstruck Alex, a wide, slightly nervous smile on his face.  “I know you have no idea what I’m talking about, because none of us told you about this, but that was because I knew at the beginning that there was a chance I might get to do this for you one day, so, I asked the others to keep it on the down low just in case I ever got the opportunity.”

Alex sank into the chair that had been brought out, looking at Darwin like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch him or kiss him.  Apparently he’d made up his mind by the end of the song. When Darwin was done he stood up and tugged him down for a brief kiss before pulling him offstage to the catcalls and whistles of most of the audience.

As the rest of the audience stood and the crowd began to dissipate, Erik found himself gravitating backstage.  He almost always found himself drifting towards where ever Charles was.  It made sense, he supposed.  Charles was the only person that he not only tolerated, but enjoyed spending time with.  Why wouldn’t he seek out company the only place he could?

As a byproduct of this tendency, Erik frequently found himself exposed to not only the insane, cult-like mentality that was the preparation that went into acapella, but the members of the group itself.

Darwin and Alex were currently off in a corner sucking face.  Erik was grateful.  It meant he  didn’t have to put up with Alex’s short temper and confrontational attitude.  He ignored the little voice that whispered about enjoying going toe-to-toe with Alex in those confrontations and moved on in search of Charles.

The other four members of Gin and Tonic were all gathered together, and Erik approached the huddle with the ease of someone who didn’t give a fuck whether or not he belonged.  He nodded at Hank and Sean.  The redhead returned the acknowledgement with a small wave, while Hank simply looked terrified.  Azazel he greeted with a rare smile. The reserved Russian one of the few people besides Charles he could tolerate for protracted periods of time.

Charles beamed at him.  “Erik!  What did you think?”

Erik shrugged.  “It was alright, I guess.”

Charles rolled his eyes.

“As verbose and complimentary as ever, I see.  Anyway, Armando and Alex will probably be...”he paused here and coughed meaningfully.  It would never cease to amaze Erik that someone who was so filthy in bed could be such an absolute prude outside of it.  “...ah, indisposed for the night.  We were thinking of getting dinner.  Would you like to join us?”

Erik had a pile of physics practice problems to do and an essay to write and three lab reports to finish.  He’d only come back to say hello to Charles before dashing off again.  He couldn’t do dinner.  He shouldn’t even have come to the concert.

“Sure,” Erik responded.  “Why not?”

* * *

 

“You know,” Charles began as they sat in lab, waiting, as usual, for the rest of the class to catch up, “there’s something that’s been bothering me for some time.”

Erik quirked an eyebrow as an invitation for Charles to continue.

“Your accent.  I just...you’re from Germany, yes?  But you don’t sound German.  You don’t sound American either.  If anything you sound...”

“Irish?” Erik offered, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Yes!” Charles said glowing with delight.  “Just so.”

With anyone else, Erik would have told them to fuck off without even offering that much.  With Charles...

“That’s because it’s where I learned to speak English.”

Charles, to his credit, didn’t pry.  He simply stared at Erik with those ridiculous blue eyes and somehow managed to convey everything he wasn’t saying.  And what he wasn’t saying was that while he wouldn’t pressure Erik into speaking, he was there if he wanted to.  And he wasn’t saying it because he knew Erik was more comfortable with silence.

Bastard.

“We moved there when I was eight or so.  We moved a lot, actually.  For my father’s job.  All over the world.  But never here.  My mother always wanted to come to America.”

Erik took a deep breath, fixing his eyes on the whiteboard so he wouldn’t have to meet Charles’ gaze.  Compassion would undo him.

“She died,” he forced out through a tight throat.  “She’d been sick, which was why I stayed in Germany even though I’d been accepted here as a freshman, but then...last February...”

A warm weight settled on his back, and it somehow gave Erik the strength to finish.  “It was the only place that didn’t remind me of her.  And she made me promise.”

Erik felt a tear roll down his face, and he watched in amazement as Charles wiped away one of his own.  After a minute, Charles opened his mouth, and Erik steeled himself for whatever might be coming.

“So how many languages do you speak?”

Erik was completely thrown.

“You said you moved all over the world.  How many languages do you speak?  And where are you from, originally?”

Erik laughed.  Only Charles.

“Seven, if you count Hebrew,” he answered, getting closer to finding his feet again.

“Impressive as always, my friend.  And my other question?”

“I’m a German citizen, if that’s what you’re asking.”

They had to stop talking after that, as the others were finally starting to present data. Before Erik had a chance to escape at the end of lab, Charles stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

“Thank you, my friend, for sharing that with me,” he said.

He reached out and pulled Erik into a hug.

Charles had vanished before Erik had a chance to figure out exactly what had happened.

* * *

 

Erik had stopped having sex.

Not altogether, mind you.  That would be ridiculous.  He’d just stopped trying to pull people.  It wasn’t really worth the effort for the disappointment.  Charles was always just a text or a call or a knock away, and no one else could measure up to him anyway.

He didn’t tell Charles.  He wasn’t sure why.  They could have a good laugh about it, bring back that first conversation, joke about Charles ruining him for all other men.

It all made a terrible sort of sense after the golf cart.

The thing about Charles, for all that he was an unrepentant manwhore whose alcohol tolerance was second only to Erik’s own, was that he was an absolute darling.  He radiated goodness and innocence so strongly that it was frankly slightly appalling.  In the eyes of the majority of his professors, Charles could do no wrong.

Which was why, when Charles showed up in front of Erik’s work after his shift was over in one of Security’s caddie carts, Erik thought nothing of it.

He contemplated wrestling with Charles for control of the steering wheel, but Charles simply raised his eyebrow in the most articulate and sophisticated “bitch please” face Erik had ever seen.  His response was a grin and a shrug before climbing up onto the back.

“What on earth are you doing?” Charles asked, glancing between where Erik stood and the empty seat beside him.

“Counterbalance,” Erik said with a grin.

Charles met it with one of his own, the one that met Erik challenge for challenge and then some.  Grin in place, he turned the key and gunned the engine before they went shooting off towards the residential quad.

For all that they were only going about twelve miles an hour, they managed to pick up some serious traction.  

Erik was very impressed with Charles’ skills, making hair point turns at speeds not meant for the poor golf cart’s engine.  They were both laughing, enjoying it a ridiculous amount.  
Then Charles somehow took a turn at a ninety degree angle and rear ended a Pontiac, sending them both flying.

Erik, by some miracle he didn’t understand, flew forward, hit his head on the steering wheel, and ended up sitting in the driver’s seat.  Despite the pain in his shins, the only thing he could think about was making sure Charles was okay.

Charles had somehow gone flying, sitting almost ten feet away on Erik’s left, and when Charles looked up at him with a smile on his face and a cut across his cheek, some magical combination of adrenaline and relief tore away his denial and all Erik could think was “Oh fuck, I love him.”

* * *

Nothing had to change, he told himself firmly at he paced around his room that night, trying to come to terms with his revelation.  He was already sleeping with Charles. He spent most of his time, free or otherwise, in the other man’s company.  It was already exactly like a relationship, only without all the irritating bits.  There was no reason to ruin what was clearly the best of all possible worlds.

For the most part, he was right.  Life post-golf-cart, as Erik had taken to thinking of it in the privacy of his own head, if only to avoid directly thinking about his revelation as much as possible, was nearly indistinguishable from life pre-golf-cart in almost all respects.  The changes were so minute that, to an outside observer, they would be invisible.   

In bed, Erik was rougher than ever, determined to leave signs of his presence all over Charles for the others to see, try to mark him in some way. He tried to let them all know that Charles didn’t belong to them.  But Charles didn’t belong to Erik either.  Still, at least this way there was some tangible evidence that Erik had been there at all.

Rough was how Erik took out his frustrations about the entire situation, so rough it always was.

Except that night.

It started out as it always did, Erik rough and demanding and driven by the desire to mark and claim. Maybe somehow punish Charles for what he was doing to Erik, to channel the frustration that drove him to distraction every damn day.

Only he caught sight of Charles’s eyes and somehow things…changed.  Erik went from trying to mark Charles’ body to doing his best to map it out with lips and tongue alone, lingering on the places he knew effected Charles the most.  Because he loved Charles, he loved him.  Loved his laugh and his sense of humor and his arrogance and the way his eyes sparkled when he was enthralled by a new intellectual discovery and suddenly it wasn’t enough.  What he had now wasn’t anywhere near enough.

Because when Erik imagined a relationship with Charles, the irritating bits suddenly looked a lot less irritating.  They started looking downright fucking desirable.

So since Erik couldn’t tell him, he could never tell him, because Charles clearly didn’t want what he wanted, he could show him.

So he did.

* * *

 

“What,” Charles asked eventually, “the fuck was that.”

“Sex?” Erik offered, hoping Charles would let the matter drop.  Judging by the stormy expression on Charles face, that wasn’t likely to happen.

“No, Erik.  I know sex.  I’ve had lots of sex.  I’ve had sex with you, in fact.  A number of times.  And that?  That wasn’t sex.”

“What do you want me to say, Charles?” Erik asked, closing his eyes and rubbing his face with his hands.

“I want a fucking explanation, is what I want!”

“What?” Erik snapped, “it wasn’t good for you?  You certainly seemed to be enjoying it at the time.”  
Charles gaped at him open **-** mouthed for several long moments before his face shuttered.

“Get out, Erik.  Just…get out.  I need…fuck.  Just…get the fuck out.”

Erik slid out from under Charles’ sheets and tugged on his clothes, the only sound in the room that of fabric on skin and the sound of the metal teeth of his zipper connecting.

He stopped at the door, turning to look at where Charles still sat in his bed.  “Charles, I…”

“Out.”

The door closing behind him felt far too final for his liking.

* * *

Charles didn’t answer Erik’s texts, or his calls.  He refused to meet his eyes in Chemistry, and had gone so far as to ask Stryker to change his lab partner.

Erik knew how important Charles was, but he had no idea how much his life had focused around the other man until after he was gone.

So, Erik had shown his hand and Charles had kicked him out.  That had sent a pretty clear message.  But if he had already fucked this up, there was no reason not to go for broke.  It damn well couldn’t hurt anything, that was certain.

With Charles, there was really only one thing going for broke could mean.  And to do it, Erik was going to need help.

Intimidating all of Gin and Tonic into submitting to his will wasn’t difficult at all.  Erik was, not for the first time, glad that he was one scary motherfucker.  It made his life so much easier.  That the intimidation carried over a good thirty seconds after his command was issued said even more.

“You want us to what?”

“I am going to serenade Charles.  And all of you are going to help me do it.”

They exchanged looks, far more knowing than Erik was comfortable with, before meeting him square in the eye.

“Are you physically capable of picking the right song for this shit, or does one of us have to do it for you?  
Erik’s response was to fling sheet music at the lot of them.  If Erik was going to do this, then he was going to _do_ it, goddamnit.  None of this half-arseing bullshit.

They looked at the song on the page before them, most considering, some thoughtful. Only one looked obviously incredulous.

“Are you serious?” Summers asked, making it clear what he thought the answer to that question should be.

“As a homicide,” Erik replied sweetly with his most toothsome grin.

Darwin looked up from his sheet music.  “How do you want to play this, man?  Like, are we going to ambush him in the dining hall?  Are you going to lure him into an abandoned room?”

“I want him to know I’m not ashamed, but I want to give him an out, if he wants one.  The point is not to pressure him into something he doesn’t’ want.”

“And, don’t take this the wrong way, but…can you even sing?”

Erik didn’t bother answering.  He didn’t have to prove himself to these idiots, just to their boss. Their boss, because Charles’ wasn’t his anything.  Not anymore.  Besides, they’d be hearing soon enough.

“Alright, here’s how we’re going to do this.  We have this thing where when someone wants to join the group, they do an ‘audition’ for the director at the concert so that we can see how they work with the group and get a sense for their showmanship.  So that’s what this will be.  An audition.”

Erik nodded briskly.  “How many times do you need to rehearse this?”

They all looked over the music with serious expressions, communicating with one another via subtle faces the way only a close group could before Darwin spoke.

“We could do it now, but if you want it to be really solid, I’d suggest at least one, maybe two  group rehearsals.

“Three then.  Let’s get started.”

* * *

 

Erik waited just out of sight, trying not to feel ill. This was it.  One last desperate attempt to get Charles back. He couldn’t pretend it was anything else.  Or maybe it was to have him in the first place.  If it blew up in his face, as it inevitably would, well…at least he had put off the inevitable heartbreak by a few days.  He could always try groveling.  Tell Charles he would be happy to take whatever scraps the man was willing to throw him.  Anything had to be better than quitting cold turkey.

“Hello everyone!”

If Erik hadn’t known he was in love before, he certainly would have now.  Just the sound of Charles’ voice had his chest aching even as it eased something within him.

“We’re starting tonight out with an audition,” a pause as the crowd, not large, but nothing to sneeze at, burst into cheers and applause.  “I know!  I’m excited too.  So, I’ll just sit down,” a pause, and this time his voice sounded slightly farther away, “and the music will build, and then we’ll watch our audition!”

Wild applause, and Erik took a deep breath, checking that everything was in order.  He thought it was ridiculous, but he did promise himself he was going to do this properly, no matter how ridiculous the purple shirt looked with the red vest and tie.  The trilby, at least, was acceptable.

He stepped out of the dorm entryway that had served as a staging area and out into the quad where the concert was taking place. Erik was immensely grateful that the other men blocked him from the audience’s view, and them from him.

But then the pitch pipe came out, and the “doos” started, and it was show time.  Erik took a deep, fortifying breath and stepped out.

Charles was sitting on the first row of the semi-circular steps that stretched out in front of their make-shift stage and the expression on his face when he saw Erik would have been comical under any other circumstance.  “Struck dumb” was the phrase that leapt to mind.

Erik fixed his eyes on Charles and began to sing.

“Well, you done done me and you bet I felt it.” The memory of feeling Charles repeating through his brain. Not just the feel of his smooth skin under Erik’s hands or the perfect ache when Charles fucked him, but the complete sense of utter devotion and helplessness he’d felt in that moment when he realized he loved Charles.

“I tried to be chill, but you’re so hot that I melted,” and Erik wasn’t just chill, he was goddamned frigid.  But Charles with his body and his brains and his fucking relentless optimism and warmth had just…decimated him.  “I fell right through the cracks, now I’m trying to get back” was in reference to this week of fucking torture, of knowing and not having and being unable to tell.

Charles was still flabbergasted. His mouth was open in shock as Erik sang, ever expressive eyes impossible for Erik to read at this distance.

“But I won’t hesitate no more,” Erik vowed.  He was tired of hiding how he felt.  “No more.”  No more cowardice, only the truth.  It was a simple one.  “It cannot wait.  I’m yours.”

Charles looked as if he’d been physically struck the first time Erik sang the word love, and he visibly struggled to control…something throughout the entire performance.

He wasn’t angry and he wasn’t disgusted and he wasn’t amused, and Erik clung to his hope like a drowning man to a rescuer.  He poured _everything_ he had into the song, every memory, every thought, every scrap of emotion he could find.

“I’m yours,” he sang for the last time, a tear he hadn’t even known was in danger of shedding working its way down his face.

Erik didn’t notice the crowd’s reaction.  He only had eyes for Charles.

And Charles…Charles couldn’t meet his gaze.

All the warmth he’d gathered vanished in an instant, leaving him cold and empty.  His walk off the stage was mechanical, for all that he couldn’t fight the temptation to reach out and allow his hand to brush across Charles’ arm as they changed places.

Erik watched.  He would allow himself that much.  If he couldn’t have Charles, he could at least watch him, now, when performance was the point.  It wasn’t quite as satisfying as usual.  Perhaps it was because it was all he was allowed – the performance, not the person performing.

Erik had planned to vanish before the final number.  He wasn’t certain he could handle watching Charles serenade, and in all likelihood, seduce someone else.  As he shifted forward to leave his seat though, he was brought to a halt by Charles’ voice.  Speaking, not singing.

“You,” Charles was saying his voice shaking slightly, “are a very lucky audience.  Tonight you get to see not one, but _two_ Gin and Tonic traditions.  Now, normally, this is the part of the show where an unsuspecting audience member is dragged up onto the stage and sung to.  But, when a member of our group has someone special they want to sing to, they get dragged up here instead and is sung what we all call the SO song.  And tonight, not only did you get to hear an _amazing_ audition from Erik Lehnsherr,” his eyes met Erik’s and the expression there made the world drop out from underneath him, “but you get to hear the significant other song as well.”

Erik couldn’t hear the crowd’s reaction over the sound of blood rushing in his ears.  Surely not.  Charles couldn’t…

But then he was stepping forward, eyes pinning Erik in place, barely a foot taller than Erik for all that he was standing.

Familiar hands wrapped around Erik’s own and tugged him gently upwards.  “Come now.  You can’t pretend to be shy.  Not after that performance earlier.”

He followed, dumbstruck, and allowed himself to be shoved into the chair that was waiting for him onstage.

“You’re just too good to be true.  Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

Erik managed, by some act of god, to keep himself under control through the first verse and half of the second, but when Charles sang the lines, “But if you feel like I feel, please let me know that it’s real,” his tenuous hold over his control snapped.  Charles managed to make it through “You’re just too…” before Erik was on him.

Erik had kissed Charles and been kissed by him more times than he could count, but this kiss was something else entirely.  He knew just how they fit together, the exact angle their mouths had to be at, the taste of Charles, the feel of his lips.  But this time…this time there was something bright and burning and beautiful behind it.

Charles knocked his hat off his head to wrap his fingers in Erik’s hair, but Erik had no grounds for complaint, given the way his hand was currently fisted in the fabric of Charles’ shirt.

“It’s rude to interrupt,” Charles scolded between pants when they pulled apart briefly for breath.  “I wasn’t finished singing to you.”  But his smile was so bright that it was blinding, so Erik knew he didn’t mean it.

“Fine,” Erik said.

He grabbed Charles’ tie and tugged him forward by it until Erik was back in the chair and Charles was straddling his lap.

“Alright.  You can finish now.”

Charles did, stopping on occasion to let out a squeak of indignation when Erik allowed his hands to wander.

Later, when they were in bed, after they’d made love for the second time, Charles head pillowed against his chest as he ran his fingers down Charles’ spine.

“That night,” Charles said eventually, fingers lightly tracing nonsensical patterns against  Erik’s stomach, “I panicked.”

“No, really?” Erik snorted, pressing a kiss to the top of Charles’ head.  “I never would have guessed.”

Charles lightly slapped him.  “I’m trying to be emotionally mature here.  I panicked because I…I wanted it.  I wanted you.  That way.  But…I hadn’t let myself think about it.  And then you were shoving it in my face and it was everything I wasn’t letting myself think about wanting, but it _wasn’t_ because we weren’t together.  You were still with other people and the thought that you might have been with them like that too…I just couldn’t.”

“I haven’t slept with anyone but you in over a month,” Erik told him.

“Three weeks tomorrow,” Charles whispered  before pressing a kiss to Erik’s skin.

“We’re a bit fucked up, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but it works for us.”

Silence.

“We should get some sleep,” Charles said at length.  “We have Gin and Tonic rehearsal in the morning.”

“You mean _you_ have rehearsal in the morning,” Erik corrected, amused.  Had they escalated that fast that quickly?

“Oh, did I not tell you?” Charles asked, propping himself up on one elbow and smiling the smile that meant either very, very good things or very, very bad things for Erik.  Sometimes both at once.  “You’re in.  Congratulations.”

“Charles…” Erik growled.  “What are you talking about?”

“Your audition, of course.  A roaring success.  You sing spectacularly, you blend well with the rest of the group, and you are one hell of a showman.  Don’t worry,” he said, patting Erik’s chest, “I won’t expect a performance like today’s every time.”

“You’re a bit biased, I think.”

“So do I, which is why I consulted the rest of the group.  Welcome to Gin and Tonic.”

Erik shot upwards, glaring down at the still smiling Charles.  “I’m not joining your secret society of singers.”

Charles just looked up at him, expression devastated.

“No.  It won’t work.  I know your tricks.”

Charles widened his eyes.

Erik collapsed back on the bed, “You little shit.  Fine.  But we are having a serious conversation about your set list.”

Charles laughed before cuddling up with him, radiating smugness.  “Like a wet paper bag,” he smirked.

“I hate you,” Erik groaned up at the ceiling.

“No you don’t,” Charles responded, and it wasn’t smug like Erik would have expected but was instead fond in a way that made Erik’s heart do bizarre things in his chest.

“No, I don’t,” he admitted, running his thumb across Charles’ cheekbone and turning to meet his gaze.

The expression on Charles face was unbelievably tender and also filled with a tentative hope.

“You’re going to make me say it first, aren’t you?” Erik asked, lips twisting into a small smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Silence.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Charles' Serenade: [Hello I Love You](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKo0-22vjv8)  
> Alex's Audition: [Great Balls of Fire](http://youtu.be/rn9-5DSiyOk)  
> Erik's Audition: [I'm Yours](http://youtu.be/8PdABx0Xats)  
> The Significant Other Song: [Can't Take My Eyes off of You](http://youtu.be/I3GqOD1i92w)


End file.
